


How Steve Rogers Ended Up Having A Perfect Birthday

by Ismene_Jane



Series: Birthday fics [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Bucky doesn't mind, College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Kissing, Lots of kissing okay?, M/M, Mentions of future sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is a badass, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The class laughed gamely, professor Carter smiled fondly, and Steve wanted to fucking punch someone in the face.</p><p>No, not someone. One person in particular: James Buchanan fucking Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Steve Rogers Ended Up Having A Perfect Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pegasus_Eridana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/gifts).



> Here's another birthday ficcie for the glorious Pegasus_Eridana! I wrote this off of a tumblr prompt (that I of COURSE can't find, now) about OTPs and hate-relationships.
> 
> This is what happened. 
> 
> I hope you like it and thanks again to Pegasus_Eridana for ONCE AGAIN editing her own birthday fics!

“So what you’re saying, Professor, is that we should be exploring the ruins of Italy instead of sitting in class? Let’s do that!”

The class laughed gamely, professor Carter smiled fondly, and Steve wanted to fucking punch someone in the face.

No, not _someone_. One person in particular: James Buchanan fucking Barnes. 

The resident class clown who destroyed any semblance of focus and made their professor go off on ridiculous tangents _all the damn time_. Which made studying for quizzes and tests ridiculously difficult. History 102 wasn’t Steve’s strongest class to begin with, and he’d been putting off taking the graduation requirement until his junior year, when he was mature enough to have the patience for ancient history.

His plan was to take notes diligently, study hard, and not let this one core class fuck up his streak of being the first art major with a 4.0. He was gonna be his class valedictorian if it killed him.

All of that went out the window on the first day of class when James “call-me-Bucky” Barnes stepped into the room with an arrogant grin plastered on his face. His first comment was, “Why don’t we talk about Aphrodite and how hot she was instead of this boring shit—uh… stuff.” The class had been charmed by his wit and (Steve had to admit, begrudgingly) incredible good looks and the professor had gone off on Greek Mythology for the rest of class.

Which was all well and good, but none of it had been on the pop quiz that they’d had at the end of that first week, and there had been things from the reading that Steve hadn’t quite gotten that they’d never gone over in class because James (there was NO WAY he was calling that asshole “Bucky”) had derailed the conversation every. Damn. Time.

He’d gotten an A minus on that test. Which was twelve kinds of not okay.

That quiz was followed by three more; all A minuses. Thank God for essays and extra credit; but as it was, Steve was still only barely holding on to his overall A grade.

Because of that fucking _douchebag_.

So here he was, about to watch a Google search of the ruins of Rome instead of talking about how the Coliseum was used over time, and he just couldn’t do it. Not today.

Because today was Steve’s twenty-first birthday and he was determined to not feel homicidal. Not on his birthday. No sir.

So Steve raised his hand.

“Um, Professor?” He started, slapping a crooked smile on his face. “Do you think we could talk about the Gladiators some more? I have a few questions on the protocol of the different Emperors.”

Professor Carter turned her gaze to Steve and grinned. “Of course, Steve,” she said. “What are your questions, specifically?”

From the back of the class came a groan, loud and fucking obnoxious.

“Oh, come on, Stevie,” Barnes’ voice wheedled. “Can’t you just watch Gladiator and let us have fun?”

Steve bristled at the nickname and the implication that he was a killjoy. He whirled around in his chair.

“Sorry, Barnes,” he hissed, fed up. “But some of us actually want to get a better grade than a C in our classes. _Some_ of us came to college to _learn_.” The class gasped and Barnes’ eyes narrowed.

“You calling me stupid, Rogers?” he spat back, voice low and dangerous.

“Not necessarily. I’m just saying that even you could do a Google search on your own time.”

“Screw you, you sanctimonious—”

“Alright, boys,” Professor Carter cut in. “Enough. Let’s get back to the task at hand. The Gladiator fights were…”

Steve smirked triumphantly, enjoying the angry grimace it brought back to Barnes’ face. He then turned around and took notes on the lecture, enjoying the peace and quiet for once.

When class was over, he stayed behind to talk to Professor Carter about more extra credit he could do to ensure his grade. He knew she was only humoring him, but as long as he got an A, he didn’t care. She edged her way out of the door and he reached down to pack up his backpack.

“Rogers.”

Steve froze, one hand in his backpack. He took a deep breath and finished putting his books away before slowly zipping it closed and then he raised his head.

"Barnes,” he answered, frostily, taking in the other boy’s appearance. He was clearly livid, almost shaking with rage.

“What the fuck was that, today?” Barnes said, low. Steve realized that although they were both furious, neither had raised their voice.

“That was me being sick of your shit.” Steve was vibrating with tension on the inside, but he was exuding calm. He wasn’t gonna let this bully get to him. Not today.

“My _shit_?”

“Yep. You come to class and distract everyone and make it so I don’t get the clarifications I need from the readings. My grades are really important to me, something I sure _you_ don’t understand, and I decided enough was enough.” He rose from his chair, shouldering his backpack. 

“How do you fucking know what’s important to me and what’s not?” Barnes growled back, stepping into Steve’s personal space. Steve didn’t let himself flinch, even though Barnes was easily a foot taller than he was.

“Oh come on, Barnes,” Steve snarked, directly into the other boy’s face. “We all know you couldn’t give two shits about this class. You don’t care about school. We both know it’s not like you’re trading on your _brains_ to get ahead in this life.” Steve saw a muscle tick in Barnes’ jaw, and enjoyed the rush of satisfaction that came with the knowledge that Steve was getting to him.

“Fuck you, _Stevie_ ,” he hissed. “Maybe some of us don’t need clarifications to ace this class. Maybe _some_ of us are smart enough to figure it the fuck out on our own.” His eyes were flinty and dangerous, his posture that of a snake about to strike.

“Careful, Bucko,” Steve growled back, refusing to back down. “I might be smaller than you are, but I could still kick the shit out of you and would be happy to do so as a birthday present to myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Barnes leaned back, breaking the tension and slapping that fucking grin on his face that made Steve see red. “I hear you like to pick fights, Rogers, something of a Napoleon complex, no doubt.”

Steve’s hands balled into fists and he was just about to respond when Barnes laughed, easy and genuine. Steve’s eyes dropped open in surprise. What the fuck was happening?

“You’re scrappy,” Barnes continued, “no doubt. But you say it’s your birthday?”

“Yeah,” Steve responded, still growly. He had no idea how to take this turn of events.

“How old are ya?”

“Twenty-one.”

“You got something going on tonight?”

“How the fuck is that any of your business?”

Barnes laughed again. “Down boy,” he said, slapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s four o’clock, and happy hour at my favorite dive. What say you let me buy you a drink and I can answer any questions you might have about the Romans.”

“You wanna buy me a drink?” Steve asked, somehow letting himself be steered out of the classroom.

“I do.” And Steve was afforded the full wattage of a Barnes smile. He didn’t know what was going on, but the anger that had been making his blood boil was now replaced by a different kind of blood-boiling emotion. And Steve was pretty okay with that.

“You’re not out to poison me, are ya, Barnes?” he asked with a smile, and was rewarded with another laugh.

“Nah, pal,” Barnes answered, removing his hand. Steve mourned the loss. “But we can talk about poison and politics at the bar. And call me Bucky, will ya?”

“Sure, Bucky,” Steve replied, bumping Barnes with his shoulder. “Lead the way.”

***

Four hours and four vodka cranberries (to which Bucky had said, “What’re you, on your period?” And Steve had punched him very solidly in the arm. Steve was drunkenly satisfied that a bruise was already appearing) and countless shots of the birthday concoction that the bartender had made specifically for Steve (he had no idea what it contained but it tasted vaguely of strawberries) later, and Steve found himself practically in Barnes’—no, Bucky’s lap, laughing uproariously as they shared stories of idiotic professors and students they’d encountered.

Turns out, Bucky was an engineering/business double major who loved history and was too smart for his own damn good.

“They made the mistake of thinking I had no idea how calc works and gave me the math part of the project,” he laughed, hand a solid weight on Steve’s thigh (and Steve had long since given up trying to keep the low thrum of arousal at bay). “They were gonna throw me under the bus when I fucked up and it turned out that I was the only one who did the project right so I got an A and the rest of them got Cs.” He cackled. “They were so _pissed_.”

“Well,” said Steve, with drunken seriousness. “You gotta admit, Buck, you’re pretty easy to underestimate.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled, and Steve had to admit that although he missed the dangerous glint of earlier, this was a good look too.

“And why’s that, Stevie?” Bucky asked, all smiles.

“’Cause you’re a fuckin’ Adonis,” Steve answered, bringing a lazy hand up to place it on Bucky’s cheek. Just seemed like the right thing to do. He was also ridiculously proud of himself that he’d managed a Classics reference despite all of the alcohol merrily swimming through his veins. “S’why.”

“That so?” Bucky scooted impossibly closer, and Steve’s heart jumped.

“Shaddup,” he said, taking his hand away. “You _know_ it, ya dick. And charming and all tha’ crap. Ya don’t let on that you’re sharp as a tack and then some.”

“Well, what about you?” Bucky intoned, putting Steve’s hand back on his face and curling their fingers together. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how sexy you are when you’re all focused and learnin’ and such.”

Steve blushed vermillion, pulling his hand away. The feeling he got whenever someone mocked him rose sudden and swiftly through his heart. He looked down at his lap and then off to the side, anywhere but Bucky’s eyes. “M’not,” he muttered.

This time, Bucky cupped Steve’s face with a gentle hand and turned the smaller boy’s head until Steve was forced to meet his eyes.

“Are so,” he whispered. “So pretty, Stevie, and you don’t even know it.”

Bucky moved closer and Steve’s eyes widened. The sour feeling of being mocked gave way to heat and hope and a little bit of fear.

“Gonna kiss you now, Stevie,” Bucky said against his lips. “That okay with you?”

Instead of responding, Steve surged forward, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips firmly to Bucky’s. Buck’s lips were just as pillowy and soft as they looked and Steve couldn’t help a little whimper of pleasure that sighed out of him when Bucky kissed him back.

They moved together, perfectly, and when Bucky pushed his tongue against Steve’s lips, begging entrance, Steve opened his mouth and tangled his hands in Bucky’s hair, pulling them even closer together. They devoured each other, breathing noisily through their noses as they plundered each other’s mouths. Bucky slid his arms around Steve’s slight waist and it was perfect, fantastic; the best birthday present Steve had ever had.

Steve was sucking on Bucky’s tongue when a hand slapped the bar next to them. They instantly jolted apart to see the bartender glaring at them.

“Ah, right,” Bucky said, sheepishly. They reluctantly let go of each other for long enough for Bucky to reach into his pocket and pull out more than enough money to cover their drinks and indiscretions (“Shut _up_ , Pal, my parents are loaded and it’s your birthday!); then he grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled them out the door.

Once they were outside, Bucky once again pulled Steve into the circle of his arms and rested his forehead against Steve’s own. Steve closed his eyes in bliss.

“So,” Bucky said, voice wicked and full of promise. “How do you feel about birthday sex?”

Steve surged up and claimed Bucky’s mouth once again. He felt really good about that, yes he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments=Sequels saturated with sex and snark.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! xxoo


End file.
